


Voices Among The Ashes

by Rebbawskaced



Series: The Silent Horizon [2]
Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Heavy Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-29
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-03-26 06:52:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3841249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rebbawskaced/pseuds/Rebbawskaced
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to The Silent Horizon</p><p>It was far from perfect, but at the end of the day it was his family. It was pieced together from broken parts and the ashes of violence to somehow form a whole and wonderful portrait that he was fiercely proud of. He’d gladly give his life for any of them, and knew that they’d do the same in return. It was something he never could have imagined as a child, and he was grateful for it every day, even the bad days. And as the years ticked by, the bad days came more frequently.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Scattered Pieces

**Author's Note:**

> This is the second part of a two part series. The first is The Silent Horizon. 
> 
> I'll warn you now, if you didn't catch the warning at the end of the last segment. This one's going to be horribly sad. If you want the happy ending for Harry and Eggsy, don't read this. You've been warned!
> 
> As it stands I have no Beta for this, so I can get it out faster. If you notice any discrepancies, please let me know and Ill fix them!
> 
> This fic does not flow linearly. I jump around. Past, present, and through journal entries. I'm trying something a bit new here, so if it doesn't work please tell me and I can add section headers to let you know what is going on and when. If it does work, please let me know! I'm curious if this is as cohesive on paper as it is in my brain.
> 
> I also know that most people call Eggsy's sister Daisy. I call her Sophie, for consistency's sake with the first part of the series.

 

 

 

After a good deal of hunting, seven were found. Four bound in black, three in brown. The black bound books were filled with a neat, looping handwriting. The brown, a less refined, square print. The covers were well worn, slight imperfections marring the leather. Both were equally precious, but for different reasons. These books held potential answers to questions often asked and never revealed.

“Do you think I should?” the question was asked.

||Only if you want to know the answers to the questions you seek.||

“You already know the answers. Am I ready to know them?”

||Affirmative.||

With a steadying sigh the first black book and the first brown book are opened together, side by side. They hold different dates, almost a year and a half apart. The brown book was a birthday gift. The black was not. The entries are similar in nature, despite the difference in dates. Hesitation and doubt seemed to be the main issues of concern. Would this help? Would it offer insight? Would it even matter ten years down the road? Twenty? Thirty? Neither author knew the answer, but the fact that there were seven books laid out instead of only two suggested that both found some solace in the words.

“Here we go,” the words are met with silence. The reading begins in earnest.

 

* * *

 -------------------------------------Eggsy’s Journal-------------------------------------

* * *

 

_Telling mum about Harry and I went about as well as expected. I had hoped she would have forgotten who Harry was. It was 19 years ago, but one doesn’t simply forget Harry Hart, especially if he’s giving you the news that your husband was killed and you’ll never see the body._

_She was less upset about me coming out than who I had chosen as my partner. I guess she’d always figured I swung both ways, though I never let onto any of that before. Especially not with Dean around. Didn’t need another reason for him to hit me, or take it out on her. Still, can’t say that it didn’t hurt the way she looked at Harry and me. Like I had just brought a poisonous snake into the house instead of a person._

_She told us to get out. I don’t know what was worse. The look on her face, the look on Harry’s, or the fact that I didn’t blame her for her reaction. I’d probably react the same way if I was in her shoes. She’ll come around eventually. I just need to give her some time._

_At least now she might stop with the guilt trip for never bringing any nice girls around, or the less than subtle hints about wanting grandkids. Told that to Harry and he laughed, but it still bothered him. We’ve had a rough few years, and I told him we’d make it through this too. Hell, we can make it through anything._

 

* * *

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

* * *

 

He wakes from a dream that he can’t remember, heart pounding erratic rhythms in his chest. It takes a moment for his eyes to come open, and when they do a warmth spreads in the back of his head.

||Do not be alarmed. My name is ARC and I am here to help you remember.||

“Yes ARC, I remember you. Just, give me a moment, please,” he requests, voice deep from sleep.

||As you wish.||

The unit falls silent, and Harry rubs at his eyes. Most days he remembers ARC, although it offers little comfort. The days he doesn’t remember ARC are terrifying. The voice in his head feels wrong, and makes him uncomfortable. Sometimes he remembers the days where he forgets with a detached sort of horror. Most time he just accepts it and moves on. ARC helpfully reminds him of his condition, and tirelessly offers any answers to questions he must ask a thousand times.

ARC doesn’t have all the answers though, and there is a great deal ARC will not speak of. The constant roadblock is as infuriating as it is depressing. Try as he may, he isn’t always able to contain his anger at this. More than once he’s yelled strings of obscenities at the device, which is always met with logical responses or silence. Worse are the times he’s brought to tears, unable to express his frustration at the situation. ARC doesn’t understand these outbursts, but his nurse does.

He calls her My Dear because it’s easier than fumbling with a name he only remembers half of the time. She’s painfully young. More than once he’s questioned her on her eligibility, but she just smiles and pats his arm, assuring him that she’s old enough and he shouldn’t worry. For the most part he doesn’t. She proves herself every day to be capable and caring. Her well of patience and understanding runs far deeper than he can imagine. She’s never raised her voice to him. When he speaks, and loses the word he’s searching for, she doesn’t try to fill in the space for him, just waits until he finds it or gives up.

 

On nights where he cannot sleep she stays up with him, telling stories that seem familiar and foreign at the same time. They laugh at the same punchlines, and he pretends he doesn’t notice the sadness in her blue-green eyes when the laughter stops. It’s similar to the way she pretends his situation isn’t getting worse.

“I suppose you’d like to do a runthrough?” he speaks to the device in his head.

||That would be ideal to form an appropriate analysis of your condition.||

“Alright, go ahead,” Harry sighs. Today was a good day. He remembers a good deal of the past week, and already knows the questions that ARC will ask. Most times he doesn’t mind being asked the same questions, since he knows it’s probably what he sounds like most of the time to other people. It feels a little bit like karma.

 

||What is your name?||

“Harry Hart.”

||What is your age?||

“Sixty eight,” he replies after a brief hesitation. That answer never comes as quick as his name. He can hardly believe it sometimes. How fast time has gone.

||What year is it?||

“2031,” he replies.

||Where are you?||

“My house in London.”

The questions continue for a few more minutes until ARC is satisfied and concludes the session. It was a good day, he remembered most of the answers. He tries not to be discouraged that he can remember nothing of what his profession was before retiring. ARC assures him this is normal, and that he always has trouble with that question.

Harry winces at the brilliance of light as he clicks the lamp to life. It illuminates the room and his eyes fall to the photo beside the bed. The photo is old, judging by how dark his hair was in it, only just beginning to grey at the temples. He still recognizes himself, which is reassuring. A bald man in a suit top and kilt bottom stands to his left, arm around a younger girl with light brown hair spilling over her shoulders. On his other side stands an older woman, holding a small girl in a brightly colored dress. Both are grinning, although the woman looks tired.

 

He stands with his arm around a disarmingly handsome man who is grinning from ear to ear. A scar stands out on one cheek, another cuts a thin line in his eyebrow. He looks deliriously happy. Harry looks at himself, and sees the same smile mirrored on his face. A simple ring can be seen clearly on their left hands.

||Do you remember them?||

Harry thinks for a long time, studying each face, each nuance in the lines of their clothing, the way they stand, the emotions on the faces.

“The one in the kilt is Merlin. The girl is Roxanne. I don’t know the woman or the child,” Harry answers.

||The other two?||

“One is me, and the other is my husband,” he answers, knowing that it’s correct, but also not the answer that ARC is looking for. He stares at the picture for another few moments, relaxing his mind, willing the name to come to him.

 

“Eggsy,” he breathes, and the relief that washes over him is sudden and euphoric.

||Correct. The woman is Michelle, and the young girl is Sophie. Eggsy is the son of Michelle, and the half-brother of Sophie.||

“Ahh, yes. Sophie and Michelle,” he replies, but he still doesn’t know them, not like he knew Eggsy.

 

“Where is he?” he asks suddenly.

||One room away.||

“Why isn’t he here?” Harry frowns.

||When you wake up disoriented you sometimes are dismayed to find someone in the bed next to you. He feels it is better for you like this.||

 

Harry swings his feet out of bed. He finds the cane and uses it to help him stand. He doesn’t remember a time without the cane, though he knows there was one. His right side is much weaker than the left, and he hates that feeling but cannot do anything about it. Using ARC’s directions he makes it to the room where Eggsy sleeps. The door is wide open, and he eases inside.

Eggsy sleeps in a sprawl, limbs in all directions. He snores softly, mouth open, hair in all directions. He’s older than he was in the photo beside the bed, but his face is familiar. Harry doesn’t remember much these days, but at least he remembers Eggsy. He sits on the edge of the bed, trying, and failing, at not waking his husband up.

“Oh, Harry. Christ, y-scared me,” Eggsy mumbled and then sat up quickly, rubbing his eyes. “Everything okay?”

“I missed you,” Harry replied softly, reaching out a hand. Eggsy grinned wide and happy and took his hand.

“Missed you too. You can crawl in if you’re still tired,” Eggsy pulled the sheets back and Harry slid into the smaller bed. Eggsy tucked himself into the crook of one arm and laid his head on Harry’s shoulder. The warmth from his body was soothing and reassuring in a world where that was harder and harder to come by.

“Have I ever forgotten you Eggsy?” he asked softly into the darkness.

“No. You haven’t,” Eggsy assures him with a squeeze of his hand and a kiss to the shoulder.

“I think it’s taking me longer to remember these days,” he admitted.

“It’s okay. We’ll work through it. We always do,” Eggsy’s voice is confident and reassuring in a way Harry hadn’t expected.

“Thank you,” he breathes, relieved that Eggsy hadn’t abandoned him.

“You’re welcome. Love you Harry,” Eggsy kisses his shoulder again.

“I love you too Eggsy,” Harry replies, and it’s easy. He does love the man snuggled into his side. If he remembers one thing it’s that love. It keeps him going when nothing else does.

 

* * *

 -------------------------------------Harry’s Journal-------------------------------------

* * *

 

 _The addition of ARC has helped a lot more than expected. I must remember to thank Merlin again. ARC is able to help predict when I’m going to have a serious migraine so I can take the medication earlier. Although the headache was still excruciating, it was bearable at least. It was a relief to everyone. Eggsy especially. He worries so much, despite my assurances that I’ll be okay._

_Despite the pain not being as bad, I still fear that my memories are going with each migraine. I re-read some early entries into the journal and remember nothing about the instances I spoke of. How long will it be before I forget the things that matter most? I hope I never find the answer to that question._

_I think it’s finally time that I asked Eggsy if he’d like to get married. I’ve collaborated with Merlin to get the perfect ring made. It took a while to get it to look the way I wanted, but it’s perfect. I’m glad I let Merlin talk me into making a custom ring. He seemed overly eager to provide assistance. I suspect a bet with Roxy is his motivation, as usual._

_Two days from now marks our third anniversary. As good a time as any. He will say yes…I know he will. That being the case, I’m not sure why I am so anxious about it. Maybe it’s the commitment? Regardless of my nerves, I have never wanted anything so badly. I didn’t even want to be in Kingsman as much as I want this._

_Maybe it’s the novelty of it. Marriage is not something I have ever allowed myself to consider before. It would not be fair to be married to someone and to be around so little because of my career. Having a spouse in the same line of business though, that is something else entirely._

_I don’t know if I’m ready, but I’m willing to give it everything I have. He deserves it._

  

* * *

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

* * *

 

Everything was in place, and it was going to be perfect. Except it wasn’t going as planned. Thier meals had taken an incredibly long time to arrive, and when they did get to the table they had gotten them mixed up. He tried not to let it get to him, but after the fiasco at the door where they had been told that they _didn’t_ have a reservation (even though he had called weeks before to ensure they would have a place in time), his mood was dampened. He had greased several palms before they were shown to a seat.

At least the view was good. They were right on the river, and the atmosphere was right. Candle on the table, dim but not too dim lighting. They shared a bottle of champagne, suggested by the waiter. He was going to order another bottle when the waiter leaned down and told him the price. Nearly choking on the mouthful he had yet to swallow he was grateful for the pay raise he had received only a month before. Clearing his throat he excused himself from the table and hastily pulled the waiter aside and politely gave him a piece of his mind. Prices that high should be mentioned before the bottle was opened.

The waiter was at least slightly apologetic, and he sighed and then accepted the apology. Slipping a hand into his jacket he pulled out the item he’d been trying not to fidget with and explained to the waiter what to do with it. The waiter seemed surprised but agreed readily enough when his palm was greased once again. This was turning into a very expensive night.

He returned to his seat, waving away any concern with one hand and settled comfortably into place, heart pounding and butterflies making his stomach turn in knots. It would be a wonder if he could make it through this without losing his lunch. The waiter returned with two glasses of Guinness a few moments later and offered the dessert menu. He wasn’t hungry but ordered for them both anyway.

“We should probably slow down on the drinking, if we plan on staying awake when we get home.”

“What? And waste perfectly good Guinness?”

“Mm, touché.”

Crisis averted again, but the night was getting more harrowing by the minute. Three men in ill fitting suits sat nearby, casting disgusted glances in their direction at regular intervals. They had been drinking quite a lot, and the more they drank, the louder their comments were. Rude, and intolerant. Usually he wasn’t bothered by such things, but tonight it was getting to him. Like he needed anything else to be nervous about. Dessert came and he picked at it, not hungry despite how good it did taste.

 

It was almost time. He fingered the small box in his pocket and hoped that his face didn’t betray how nervous he was. Draining the last of his Guinness he happened to glance into the bottom of his glass and his heart dropped. The fucking waiter had mixed up the damned glasses. Thinking fast he brushed a little too hard against the water glass, sending ice and water spilling off the table. The distraction worked and he managed to switch the glasses, pouring the last bit of the Guinness from one glass into the other while everyone else was distracted.

“Are you alright?”

“No. Not really, I uh...I think we should get going. Finish your drink, then we can get out of here?”

“Alright, if that’s what you want. Did you just want to go home?”

“Nah, it’s fine. Just finish your drink and we’ll go. I probably just need some air. Too much champagne.”

He watched, holding his breath as the pint was finished and placed on the table, it’s contents weren’t observed.

“I think there’s...something in your glass,” he motioned towards it. The glass was examined more carefully and there was a small exclamation of surprise as the words  “Marry Me?” were revealed on the bottom of the glass. He pulled the ring out of his pocket, almost dropping the damned thing as he got down on one knee and opened the box.

“Harry Hart, will you do the honor of marrying me?” he asked, heart beating so hard it was a wonder that it didn’t explode from his chest.

On par for how the night was going, Harry looked at him, stunned and speechless. Something passed over his face, and it looked like irritation. Eggsy’s heart crumbled. He had been so sure of this, as he hadn’t been sure of anything else in his whole life.

“Can you believe this? The bloody faggots are taking over all the last good places in high society. Can’t we eat one meal in peace without the gay agenda being shoved down our throats?” The comment was loud enough for almost everyone in the restaurant to hear and things went uncomfortably silent as they were stared at. Eggsy down on one knee, holding out a ring for a much older man who wasn’t replying. He felt his face go unnaturally red as he waited for a reply.

Instead of a reply Harry got a look in his eye, and Eggsy promptly took his seat, snapping the ring box closed and tucking it safely into a pocket. He said nothing, just watched, helpless to the oncoming storm.  

 

“Excuse me sirs, but that was quite rude of you, considering how hard it must be to have the courage to propose to anyone in a restaurant. Seeing how none of you have a wedding band, nor female accompaniment on this night, I’m going to assume none of you have the bollocks to make such a commitment yourselves. Now. I do believe you owe the young sir an apology,” Harry smiled and Eggsy tried not to cringe. He knew that smile all too well.

“You takin’ the piss grandpa? You think we’re gonna apologize to your little twi-” the man never finished his sentence. His nose met the table with a sickening crunch as Harry’s hand snaked out to the back of his head. The other two shot to their feet and he dispatched them just as effortlessly. The three got up, reconsidered, and fled the restaurant (without paying, Eggsy noticed). Harry reached into his pocket, pulled out some bills and paid that bill before returning to his own table to scattered, and awed applause from some of the other patrons.

“Harry,” Eggsy began as Harry dropped more bills onto the table.

“Come with me,” Harry sighed, pulling him out of the restaurant and into the night. It was a little chilly, but it wasn’t raining. The night was clear and there was a small path along the river that Harry steered him towards. They followed it in silence, and as they walked the humiliation of the night’s events played over and over in his head. What a mess he had made of it.

Eventually Harry stopped. There was no one around and no sounds but the soft murmur of the river and the occasional cricket. Eggsy turned from Harry and looked at the river, dark and deep, reflecting the stars above. He sighed, feeling like a fool. A heartbroken fool.  

 

“You never had any damned patience,” Harry grumbled and Eggsy turned to look at him. Harry was down on one knee with his own box in hand, a look of amused exasperation on his face, mingled with the normal fondness Eggsy was accustomed to. He started to laugh, unable to contain his emotions any more. He understood the irritated look Harry had given him at the proposal, and it wasn’t because he didn’t want to get married, he simply had his own plans for proposing.

“Laughing isn’t usually the proper answer,” Harry began.

“Neither is beating up asshole patrons,” Eggsy reminded him.

“So is that a yes?” Harry asked.

“I asked you first,” Eggsy retorted.

“Want to try again, without the audience?” Harry tried.

“Not really. I like seeing you on your knees,” Eggsy grinned.

“Well it’s starting to hurt, can you make a decision?” Harry grumbled.

“Gotta ask me proper first. Like a real gentleman,” Eggsy replied.

“Gary Lee Unwin. Eggsy. Will you marry me?” Harry asked, sincere.

“Yes,” Eggsy replied with a grin, reaching out a hand to help Harry off his knees. Harry slipped the ring out of the box, and put it on Eggsy’s finger with unnatural ease. He leaned in for a kiss but Eggsy dropped to his own knee, for the second time that night.

“Harry.”

“Yes Eggsy?”

“The fuck is your middle name?”

“Just ask the damned question,” Harry grumbled.

“I can’t marry you if you don’t tell me your damned middle name,” Eggsy growled.

“Mm, you already said yes. Too late now,” Harry shrugged.

“Harry!” Eggsy whined.

“Harmony.”

“Excuse me?” Eggsy choked.

“My mother wanted a girl, my father wanted a boy. So they decided on Harry and Harmony, and when it turned out I was a boy my mother decided to keep the name anyway. My father said it was fair enough. Are you quite finished?” Harry huffed.

“Harry...Harmony Hart,” Eggsy said between giggles, trying to contain his mirth.

“I should have made something up,” Harry said, more to himself than to Eggsy.

“Harry. Will you marry me?” Eggsy asked, sincerity of the question winning out over humor.

“Yes Eggsy,” Harry replied and Eggsy stood, putting his own ring on Harry’s finger. It fit perfectly, as Merlin had assured him it would.

“Now come here, Mr. Unwin,” Eggsy pulled Harry close.

“And why aren’t you going to be Mr. Hart?” Harry asked, one eyebrow quirking to the night’s sky.

“Cause we gotta get rid of that middle name of yours, my god Harry!” Eggsy gasped, laughter bubbling over. Harry stopped his laughter with a brief kiss, their first as fiancés.

“A simple H has done me well all this time, I see no reason to change it now,” Harry muttered against his neck as they embraced and Eggsy laughed again, exhilarated and happier than he had been in a long time. The ridiculousness of the night was behind them and the future ahead was as bright as it ever seemed.

 

* * *

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

* * *

 

“Do you remember the wedding Soph?” Eggsy asked over breakfast.

“Not really. I was six!” she replied, “How much do you remember when you were six?”

“A bit. You were a stellar ring bearer, only dropped the rings…” Eggsy tapped his fork on the table, recalling the information, “three times.”

“I didn’t!” she replied, mortified.

“No, you only dropped them twice. Eggsy dropped them the third time,” Harry replied, tipping a wink at her.

“I did not!” Eggsy replied, indignant.

“ARC doesn’t lie Eggsy,” Harry replied after a moment of silence where he listened to something no one else could hear. They were all used to ARC, and how often he’d mentally check in with Harry on basic facts. It made things seem almost normal between them.

“I remember the dancing,” she replied, grinning at the memory, “I got to dance with everyone. Eggsy, you let me stand on your nice shoes so I could learn the steps!”

“He probably did it so he wouldn’t step on your feet,” Harry replied, and Eggsy stuck his tongue out at the him.

“And Harry, you picked me up and we waltzed around the dance floor,” she remembered the song, although she didn’t remember the name of it.

“Oh god, he did. He danced with you more than he danced with me!” Eggsy laughed.

“I danced with mom too, when you two got tired. Sang to all the songs when we danced. She wore such a pretty dress. Looked like a princess, yeah?” Sophie asked, trying not to sound as desperate for information as she felt.

“Yeah Soph. She sure did,” Eggsy agreed.

The usual sad silence descended upon the room at the mention of Michelle Baker. She had been seven when her mother had passed away from complications from what the doctors had called the V-Strain. It was a type of brain cancer unheard of before 2015, and now there were more and more cases springing up every day. Anyone affected by the sim-card of Richmond Valentine was at risk for developing the V-Strain, and although hundreds of thousands were spent to try and cure or at least prevent further cases, it amounted to nothing. It was too fast acting, and too aggressive. Some patients died within a year. Most had only 7 months. Her mother had managed 9 months.

It had been after her mother died that she decided she wanted to be a nurse. The nurses were always so nice to them when they came in to check on her mother, and they offered her mother comfort when few could. She never forgot how they’d administer the medication that would take the pain away so her mother could sleep without the lines in her forehead or the whimpers of dreams turned to nightmares. If she could offer that same peace and kindness to others, she’d be happier for it. Especially since she had no power to save her mother, or to spare her any pain.

She missed her mother, but she wouldn’t trade her brother and Harry for anything. Nor the extended family of Aunt Roxy, Uncle Merlin, and Uncle Ezra. They weren’t the traditional family, and there were plenty of secrets and lies to go around, but for the most part she was fairly happy growing up. Until Harry started to get worse.

She glanced over at Harry as they ate, and saw the expression on his face that he tried so hard to hide. She knew it well. It was the face he made when he didn’t really remember what they were talking about, but was trying hard to keep up the appearance that he did. ARC supplied him with relevant information on what they were talking about, but it wasn’t the same as really remembering.

Harry was forgetting a lot lately, and it was happening without the headaches. Most days he couldn’t even remember her name, just calling her “My Dear”, which was a nickname he had always called her, even before his memory got particularly worrisome. It wasn’t the same as him calling her by her name, but it was something. She clung to that when the sadness threatened to spill into her voice.

 

“Have you gotten any notices from any more schools Soph?” Eggsy asked, breaking the silence.

“I got into the School of Medicine at Imperial,” she grinned sheepishly.  

“You’re smarter than Imperial,” Eggsy snorted and she sighed, knowing this was going to be his reaction.

“Maybe, but it’s not as expens--” she started.

“I told you, I’m paying your way. I got a lot of money stashed for this! Don’t you worry about the money, yeah?” Eggsy gave her a narrow glance that she knew meant the end of the conversation.

“Okay, okay. What, you want me to get into Oxford?” she asked with slight disdain. Neither of them had ever been Oxford fans, a fact that Harry was always amused by.

“Uck. Get in, yes. Go? No. I bet you’ll get into Cambridge for sure though, smart as you are,” Eggsy suggested.

“Little highbrow for me, yeah?” she asked, frowning at her brother.

“So what? Prove ‘em all that you’re better than them. It’s in your genes,” Eggsy reminded her and she rolled her eyes. She caught the fond look that Harry passed to Eggsy and sighed. That was a story she had heard a thousand times and didn’t need to hear again.

“Okay, well I’m gonna wait till I get all the replies. I’ll make a decision then,” she hoped that would appease him enough to drop the subject. It did.

“I won’t be home for dinner tonight, but if things go well today then I’ll be back tomorrow. Need anything before I go, either of you?” Eggsy asked as he finished the toast on his plate.

“Nah. The delivery will be here with the groceries around noon. I can handle things till you get back,” she assured him with a grin. She was well versed in taking care of herself, and Harry by this point. It came with the territory of dead parents and overworked guardians. She had made her peace with that years ago. Eggsy was the one who couldn’t let it go. She loved him, but he hovered entirely too much.

“Oi! In the dishwasher!” she scolded when Eggsy went to leave his dish in the sink. He sighed dramatically but heeded her demand and placed the plate into the dishwasher instead.

“Be home before you know it,” he grinned and gave her a kiss on the top of her head. She watched as he swept over to Harry, they exchanged brief looks of understanding before Eggsy kissed him too.

“See you soon,” Harry replied as Eggsy shrugged into his suit jacket.

They watched as Eggsy swept out the front door leaving them to finish the rest of their breakfast.

 

“Is he usually back on time?” Harry asked after a few beats of silence.

“Not usually, but he’s more punctual than you,” she teased with a grin.

“Oh. Well I’m sorry if I ever kept you waiting,” Harry apologized so sincerely that it broke her heart a little. She reached over and took his hand in hers.

“Nope. You don’t apologize for that! You’ve more than earned the right to take as long as you bloody well please,” she stated firmly, leaving no room for argument.

“Language, my dear,” he tutted and she laughed.  

“Sorry Harry,” she replied automatically as she picked up his empty plate, then her own and slotted them into the dishwasher next to the one Eggsy had already put in there. When she turned back, Harry was rubbing the scar on his forehead, brow furrowed. She knelt at his side and put a hand on his knee.

“Are you getting a headache? Has ARC said anything about it?” she asked, concern filling her features.

“He hasn’t, but I am getting a small one. I think I just need to lie down for a bit,” he admitted.

“Alright. Sofa or bed?”

“Sofa would be a nice change of pace, I think,” he answered. 

Sophie held out a hand to help him to his feet, and provided the cane for extra support once he was standing. He took it with a grateful nod and she smiled back at him. He was far from being unable to move by himself, but she stayed near enough to be of assistance if he required it, but not close enough to be considered hovering. It was a fine line, but she thought that she had it down pretty well. He settled onto the sofa and she provided the remote. He thanked her and she returned to the kitchen and opened up the medicine cabinet, retrieving the medication that would help with the not-so-serious headaches.

She returned to the sofa with a glass of water and the pills, and set them down on the table. Harry was dead asleep on the sofa, breathing deep and steady. The TV hadn’t even been turned on. She smiled and pulled the blanket from the back of the sofa, tucking him in. He didn’t stir, but he did make a humming noise as the warmth settled over him.

Sophie watched him sleep for a while, wondering if his little headache would turn into something worse, or if it would fade away. These days it was almost a 50/50 chance that a small headache would turn into a big one. She wished she had gotten the pills to him before he had fallen asleep. The last thing either of them needed was a Big One when Eggsy was away.

  

* * *

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* * *

 

||Analysis concludes that a severe migraine is inbound. Suggested course of action is immediate medication and bed rest.||

 

“Harry, ARC ju-” he started.

“Yes, he told me as well,” Harry cut him off as he fished the medication out of his pocket. He kept the medication with him at all times these days, which was a huge weight off of Eggsy’s mind. He watched as Harry didn’t bother with the water and simply chewed the medication, managing only a small grimace at the too-bitter taste. That was worrisome, as it meant it was coming faster than normal.

“Soph, can you get me an ice pack please?” Eggsy called into the other room.

“Is Harry gonna get a headache?” she asked.

“Yes, hurry please Sophie,” Eggsy replied as he helped Harry to his feet. He was already sweating and his face was pale.

“Bad one. We’ll put you to bed and go out somewhere so we don’t bother you, yeah?” Eggsy asked, voice strained in worry. Harry simply nodded and allowed himself to be led upstairs. Eggsy heard the light patter of feet behind him as Sophie darted up the stairs behind them, eight years old and mindful enough to know which steps to avoid as she came up behind them, barely out of breath, ice pack in hand. He reached out for the ice pack and saw her face morph from careful concern to outright terror as she gasped at something over his shoulder.

Reflexes as honed as ever, he spun and reached out at the same time, managing to catch Harry as he fell. Overbalancing, he twisted so that when they fell, he took the brunt of the impact. Harry landed heavily on top of him.

“Jesus Harry,” Eggsy wheezed, wishing Harry would have given some warning he was about to go down. A moment later he realized Harry couldn’t give any warning. His eyes had rolled into the back of his head and he could feel the muscles in his arm spasming like mad.

“What’s wrong with him Eggsy?!” Sophie cried, eyes wide and terrified as she watched.

“Shit, I dunno. Call Uncle Merlin for me, yeah?” Eggsy asked through gritted teeth as he pushed Harry off him as gently as he could. He watched as Sophie dug the phone out of her pocket and dialed Merlin.

 

||Analysis concludes codename Galahad is suffering from a tonic-clonic seizure.||

“That’s just fan-fuckin-tastic ARC! What do I do? Put somethin’ in his mouth so he doesn’t swallow his tongue?” Eggsy snarled. Knowing the name of what was happening to Harry wasn’t going to fix it. He hadn’t any experiences with seizures.

 

||Negative. Such action is not recommended. Recommended action is to turn codename Galahad on his side and to clear the area of any items that could cause injury if they come in contact with convulsing limbs. Do not attempt to restrain him. Maladies of this type typically last two to four minutes.||

 

Eggsy worked as ARC informed him of the problem. Harry’s back was arched at an alarming angle as Eggsy turned him on his side. He kicked the table nearby with one foot so it wasn’t close to them. A vase shattered and the picture frames all fell over, but the table was now far enough away from Harry that it couldn't do any damage.

 

“Uncle Merlin, something’s wrong with Harry! Eggsy told me to call you,” Sophie piped into the phone and then pulled it away from her and put in on speaker.

“He can hear you,” Sophie held the phone towards Eggsy so he could hear better. He saw that her hands were shaking but she was holding up surprisingly well.

“Merlin he’s having a seizure. I don’t...I don’t think he’s breathing,” Eggsy cried towards the phone.

“Turn him on his side and get a pillow under his head if you can,” Merlin had his instructor voice on and Eggsy was thankful for it. Sophie dropped the phone on the floor and ran to get a pillow without being asked. Eggsy couldn’t have asked for a better assistant. She came back with one of the ones from the chair in Harry’s office. It would work. He eased it under Harry’s head.

“Now what?” Eggsy asked.

“Loosen the clothing around his neck. If he has a tie on, take it off.”

He didn’t, but Eggsy undid the buttons on his button down shirt to almost mid chest. Harry’s back was still arched and his limbs still convulsed. His face was turning red and his hands were clenched into fists.

“Merlin? What now?” he croaked.

“Wait. I’ve sent someone over to get him to the hospital. They’ll be there in...three minutes. The seizure should let up soon, just wait it out Eggsy,” Merlin replied.

“But if he’s not breathi-”

“You can’t do CPR on someone who is having a seizure. You have to wait till the convulsions stop. If they do, let me know and we’ll take it from there. One step at a time,” Merlin assured him.

“Is he gonna be okay Uncle Merlin?” Sophie asked.

“I think he’ll feel better if he has some tea when he wakes up. Do you think you could put the kettle on for him Sophie?” Merlin asked.

“Yeah, I can do that!” she leapt to her feet and was down the stairs in a flash. Eggsy was suddenly very grateful that Merlin had a clear head. Keeping Sophie busy would keep her from getting too upset. He wished he had something to keep him from getting too upset, but seeing Harry like this was terrifying.

 

The water hadn’t even had the chance to boil when Harry’s body finally relaxed. His breath was expelled violently as his muscles relaxed and Eggsy doubted he ever heard a sound so sweet as Harry sucking in lungfuls of air.

“Harry?” Eggsy asked and felt himself sag against the doorframe as Harry opened his eyes at last.

“Is he awake?” Merlin inquired from the phone on the floor.

“Yeah, breathin’ too,” Eggsy exhaled suddenly, reminding himself to breathe as well.

“Good. Responsive?” Merlin asked.

“Harry, you hear me mate?” Eggsy asked softly. Harry blinked at him, awake but not responding.

“Sort of? Confused like,” Eggsy replied.

“That’s normal. It might take a little bit for him to come to. Just give it some time. The ambulance is pulling in now. They’ll take care of him until I meet you there.”

“You’re the guv Merlin, always are,” Eggsy thanked him in his own way and hung up the phone. He heard Sophie answer the door for the paramedics.

He slipped a hand into Harry’s, he could feel the small indents in his palm caused from his fingernails when he seized. Eggsy squeezed lightly, watching Harry as he breathed heavily, looking confused and not a little lost.

“It’s alright Harry, you’re gonna be just fine. We’ll get this sorted, yeah? Just keep calm. I’m right here,” Eggsy assured him in all the ways he knew how, for as long as he could. He kept it up as they were driven at full throttle towards the Kingsman HQ to be taken to the medical bay there. The drive seemed to take forever and by the time they reached their destination he was fairly certain he was going to be sick from the anxiety of it all.

He hadn’t been entirely sure that they’d allow Sophie to join them, but with one angry glare from him they had relented. He’d deal with the fallout from Arthur later if need be, but this was his family and she was only eight. If an eight year old could ruin the integrity of Kingsman than it deserved to fail.

 

The doctors whisked Harry into a room and told them to wait outside while they examined him. Eggsy knew that he needed to stay out of the way but the last thing he wanted to do was to leave Harry alone. They waited for a long time with no answers, and just when he thought he’d snap from the tension of it all, Sophie crawled into his lap and hugged him tight. He relaxed slightly, knowing the she was getting too big to do this much longer, and he held her close, assuring her that Harry would be okay.

Merlin arrived not long after, looking unusually disheveled and put out. It had been his night off after all. More surprising than Merlin looking disheveled was the fact that Roxy had shown up with him, looking slightly more put together.

“I was in the neighborhood when Merlin called to tell me. Figured I’d pop over to see how Harry was doing,” she explained and Eggsy didn’t press them. He was too grateful for the support. Roxy sat in the chair next to him and Sophie crawled into her lap a moment later. Roxy hugged her awkwardly but with affection. Roxy had never particularly cared for children, but she got along with Sophie well enough. Sophie looked up to her like she was a goddess, and Eggsy couldn’t blame her. He wished he’d had a role model like Roxy when he was Sophie’s age.

“Ezra sends his regards that he can’t be here, by the way. Mission in China,” Roxy explained and Eggsy nodded. It was rare that they could all get together at the same time, and today was no exception.

“Thanks again Merlin. Also, ARC’s not bad in your place either. Gave some pretty top advice. Helped me keep my head,” Eggsy managed a strained smile in Merlin’s direction.

“Good. Maybe I will be able to retire one day without the whole place falling down in my absence,” Merlin sighed.

They resumed the heavy burden of waiting for news from the room beyond. Merlin could get them in, Eggsy knew, but he didn’t try. Instead they waited together. It felt like hours, and it was long enough for Sophie to fall asleep on Roxy. She snored on Roxy’s shoulder. Eggsy took pity on her and picked his sister up after she started to drool on Roxy’s shirt. She grumbled in protest, but fell back asleep quickly, the way only children ever seemed able to after trying events.

 

Eventually the door opened and all three of them sat up a little straighter while Sophie slept on. The doctor had a reassuring smile for them and that’s all Eggsy needed to see to know that Harry was alright. He barely registered what the doctor said to them, anxious to see Harry. Finally he was told that he could go in, but they should limit the visit to one person at a time, as not to confuse him. Merlin took Sophie from Eggsy and motioned for him to go in.

Eggsy shut the door behind him. The room was dark, the only light coming from a very small table lamp. Harry was awake, watching him. Eggsy sat down on the edge of the bed and Harry moved away from him a little, a small frown creasing his brow.

“Hi Harry,” Eggsy smiled at him.

“Who…” Harry started, his voice low and hoarse. He paused and cleared his throat.

“Who are you?” Harry managed at last, making Eggsy’s breath catch harshly as his throat constricted like a vice. The enormity of the question struck him with such force he wasn’t able to answer. He felt the tears rising, hot and hopeless to his eyes and he looked away, struggling to get a grip. He had lost Harry to memory loss once before, and they had come out of that. They could do it again. Harry was worth it.

“I’m your husband,” he replied weakly to the wall, unable to look at Harry as he spoke. The room was silent for a very long time as Harry processed the words.

“What happened to me?” Harry asked after what seemed like an eternity.

“You had a seizure. Kinda fucked you up, yeah?” Eggsy’s voice was heavy in his throat. He cleared it to allow the words to come out a little easier.

“I think the doctor tried to tell me that. I’m very tired,” Harry replied, distracted in a way he hadn’t even been when coming out of his coma after being shot.

“That’s normal, he said it’d pass. You probably just need to sleep,” Eggsy suggested. Harry looked up at him, frowning.

“My husband?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Eggsy chuckled once, although there was no humor in it. They’d have to start from square fucking one. All the years together just totally erased like the flip of a switch.

“My head hurts. I think I’m going to sleep,” Harry trailed off, and rolled over onto his side. His breathing evened out almost at once.

Only when Harry was asleep did Eggsy allow himself to cry.

 

\---

 

Eggsy sent Sophie home with Merlin to spend the night. Roxy stayed with him for a few hours before she too went home. Eggsy stayed the night in the hospital in Harry’s room, not sleeping and not allowing himself to feel all the emotions that stirred just beneath the surface. Occasionally ARC would speak up with suggestions. Eggsy didn’t reply, not wanting to disturb Harry and not really wanting to talk. ARC got the hint after the third unanswered suggestion and stopped altogether.

 

He hadn’t realized he had dozed off until someone called his name. He stirred slowly, not fully awake. The room was unfamiliar and his eyes hurt.

“Eggsy?” the voice called again and he rubbed at his face, the room slowly coming into focus. Harry was sitting up staring at him from the bed.

“Harry?” he asked, frowning.

“Eggsy...how did I get here?” Harry asked.

The realization slammed home a moment later as the memories flooded in and Eggsy catapulted to Harry’s side. Harry grimaced as Eggsy hit the bed, jostling him a little but Eggsy didn’t care. He kissed his husband fiercely, and could have sobbed when Harry kissed him back. They didn’t have to start at square one after all.

\---

 

It took Harry almost two full days to recover from the seizure. His memory was slow to come back at first, but improved rapidly enough in the following days. The doctors informed them that this was normal with seizures that stemmed from brain trauma. They also told them that the seizures would probably continue unless Harry took medicine to help combat them. Resigned he agreed, and another medication was added to the growing list. Eggsy couldn’t care less. Harry hadn’t forgotten him for good and that was a much as he could hope for.

Thankfully, it was rare for Harry to have seizures after that. Maybe once a year, if that. The migraines on the other hand, ramped up in frequency and intensity and the period of recovery lasted longer and longer each time. Arthur restricted Harry to local missions only until he improved, much to Harry’s annoyance. It worked well enough for Eggsy though, Harry was almost always home for dinner and they didn’t have to get someone to watch Sophie as often.

It wasn’t his idea of a perfect life, but it was a life with Harry which was more than he ever could have imagined. They had been together for eight years, and married for four. Sophie was growing up street savvy and well mannered, thanks to the influence of her brother and his husband. She was clever and eager to please, and Harry spoiled her rotten. Eggsy only minded about half the time. He spoiled her too, as some sort of sad retribution for not being home as much as he wanted to be.

It was incredibly difficult trying to raise a ten year old and be a Kingsman at the same time. He was grateful for Roxy, Ezra, Merlin and even Arthur. Arthur took pains to try and make it so that at least one of the five were in the area when the others weren’t, so someone could keep an eye on her. He was surprisingly accommodating to the situation, but Eggsy had a feeling that might have had something to do with Roxy and Ezra. They had a particular pull on Arthur that no one else had.

It wasn’t perfect, and they all had their disagreements and arguments, but at the end of the day it was his family. It was pieced together from broken parts and the ashes of violence to somehow form a whole and wonderful portrait that he was fiercely proud of. He’d gladly give his life for any of them, and knew that they’d do the same in return. It was something he never could have imagined as a child, and he was grateful for it every day, even the bad days.

And as the years ticked by, the bad days came more frequently.

 

 


	2. Fragments

* * *

Eggsy’s Journal

* * *

_London is burning and we don’t know who causing it. No one in Kingsman knows. MI6 doesn’t know. We’ve exhausted all of our usual resources and no one is talking. There’s always a trail, that’s what we’re taught. Yet each thread leads to the same thing, empty ashes and smoking remains. Arthur’s gone nearly mental from the strain. He’s pulled most of our agents back into London to help find who’s behind the burning. All cases have been pushed to the backburner until we can find who is behind it._

_Harry’s tried his hand at finding answers. So has Roxy. Even Merlin has stuck his nose in the embers and we’ve all come up empty. It’s like whoever is doing it knows exactly how to avoid us. I said as much to Arthur when I came up empty handed too. He looked tired when I suggested it. The thought had crossed his mind too, but why would anyone in Kingsman want to see London burn?_

_Lamorak is convinced that it’s the same arsonist from ten years ago that we never managed to catch, even though all’s been quiet on that front for the better half of nine years. Why start up again now? And why go from abandoned buildings to residential areas? From fires to bombings? I’m not convinced that it’s the same person, but Harry says there are no coincidences and he might have a point. I won’t rule it out._

_Merlin’s been working on a major upgrade for ARC and they’re almost ready. With some new jumps in technology ARC’s AI system will be better than ever. More helpful suggestions, better tactical analysis, better integration with the nervous system, faster upload speeds to Kingsman HQ, a sturdier casing, and a smaller implant among other things. Merlin won’t shut up about his computational creativity addition. Supposed to make ARC better able to think outside the box to come up with creative solutions to problems that we face. I always get a bit put out when ARC has to go in for upgrades, but Merlin hasn’t let me down yet. ARC is the same as he’s always been, and he remembers all the shit we’ve been through._

_Honestly he’s been a godsend with Harry and his migraines, he’s better at predicting them now than he has been, and we usually have enough time to get Harry somewhere quiet before he’s taken out. The memory thing has been helping too. Merlin’s designed a special unit for Harry, again, that does all sorts of technical crap I don’t understand. All I know is that Harry seems pretty happy with it at the end of the day._

_I just wish ARC had something that could stop the headaches from happening. I hate seeing Harry in that much pain. The medication helps, but not enough. I think it’s starting to wear thin, and we might need to up the dose._

_Sophie is stellar, top of her class and she just had her thirteenth birthday not a week ago. Arthur was nice enough to let me and Harry have the day, though I have to work twice as hard next week to make up for it. Prick. Sophie had a great time with her friends. We took her ice skating and she had a blast. Harry wasn’t gonna skate, but she begged and he can’t resist her pleads. He’s not half bad at skating. Can’t stop for shite, but that’s what the rink walls are for. I was a bit rusty myself. Only fell three times. Bruised my knees to hell, but it was fun regardless._

_Some kid fell towards the end of the night though, and his friend tripped over him. Sliced his hand open on the ice with the skate. There was blood everywhere. Harry went to the front desk to get a med kit, but Sophie rushed right over and used her own sweater to try and stop the bleeding. She’s a good kid. Better than I ever was. Made some terrible jokes to make the kid laugh to take his mind off his hand. Told me later that she wants to be a nurse. Mum would have liked that._

__

* * *

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

* * *

 

“How was school today, my dear?” Harry asked as she flopped gracelessly into the sofa next to him.

“Stupid,” she muttered, crossing her hands over her chest.

“And why was it stupid?” he asked, turning in his chair to give her his full attention. She played with the hem of her shirt, picking at it even though there was nothing there to really mess with.

“Well...there’s a dance tonight,” she began and then started to chew on her lip. Harry said nothing, waiting for her to continue.

“And Jacob asked me to the dance at lunch. I said yes,” she groaned miserably.

“Ahh, and do you not like this...Jacob?” Harry asked carefully.

“He’s cute...but when I said yes his friends came over and gave him a high five and a quid,” she sniffed, “he only asked me out as a stupid bet! Just a joke! Said no one would want to go to the dance with a nerd like me.”

She couldn’t hold it back any longer and the tears came hot and fast. She quickly buried her face in her sweater, breath hitching in great gasps. The humiliation stung worse than the actual rejection. She hadn’t expected to have a date to the dance, she was fine with just going with her friends. The spark of hope that had kindled when he asked her had been violently stomped out before it had even had a chance to grow.

She felt the cushion sag to her right and warm arms circled around her shoulders. She leaned into Harry and cried. He held her without saying anything, letting her cry it out and she was grateful. If he started giving advice now she’d just end up crying harder. Occasionally he’d pass her a tissue from the coffee table and she’d blow her nose before her face got too messy. Eventually she ran out of tears and in their place came hiccups. They made her stomach hurt with the force of them. Harry left the room without a word and returned with a glass of water. She took it gratefully and drank it down fast. Eventually the hiccups faded and she retrieved her own tissues to wipe her face with.

“Sorry Harry,” she apologized as she patted at her eyes.

“Do you feel better?” he asked, waving aside her apology.

“A little,” she sniffed.

“Good. Now, I’m going to straighten this out,” he assured her.

“No! I don’t want to straighten it out. I just want to forget about it!” she wailed, knowing that Harry had a very low tolerance towards rudeness and that he’d never let Jacob off the hook for his attitude. The last thing she wanted was for Harry to cause a bigger scene.

“I’m not going to confront this boy, although I’d like to. Don’t worry Sophie, I know that it would cause more harm than good,” Harry patted her knee with a sympathetic smile. She didn’t miss the tightness in his face though, he was irritated.

“Yeah it would,” she agreed sullenly, sniffing and then looking up at him again, “what were you thinking then?”

“Did you still want to attend the dance?” he asked.

“No. Kinda lost it’s appeal,” she sniffed again.

“Then what do you say to pizza and a movie with me instead? I’ll even let you pick the toppings,” he offered.

“And the movie?” she asked with hopeful eyes.

“I suppose,” he gave a long suffering sigh.

\---

The end credits rolled and she sat pondering the ending of the movie, chewing on her lower lip as she did so.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Harry asked.

“It’s just a bit mental, innit?” she replied slowly, “I mean, she has a daughter...which means she had to be pregnant...but she’d never remember it. So one day she wakes up and looks down and BOOM! She’s nine months pregnant...I mean, losing your memory is bad enough but waking up with no preparation for being pregnant at all? And one day she woke up and HAD the baby? So she just wakes up in the middle of the night to a crying baby with no idea how it got there?” she exclaimed, frowning at the thought.

“I do believe you’re overanalyzing it a tad Sophie. I don’t think you’re supposed to look at it that closely,” Harry reasoned.

“I know, but I can’t help it! She has to be so scared,” she sighed.

“Yes, she probably is...but she also has her husband to help her remember. She’s not alone, and I think that’s rather the point now isn’t it? He’ll be there for her to help her remember what she can’t. In any way he can,” Harry explained.

“Like Eggsy will with you, when you start to forget. Right?” she asked.

“I...I suppose so,” he stammered.

“Oh! Sorry Harry. That was rude,” Sophie covered her mouth, face going red. Harry chuckled and shook his head.

“Nothing to be sorry about. It’s a fact that I’m losing my memories, a fact I can’t hide forever,” Harry sighed.

“Do you think you’ll be like Lucy, and that Eggsy will be like Henry? Is he gonna have to keep trying to date you again and again?” she asked, curious.

“Well, my memory problem is a bit different than Lucy’s,” Harry admitted softly, features soft and inviting instead of hard, which meant he was open to talking about it. Some days he wouldn’t talk about it at all, but sometimes she could catch him in the right mood.  

“Yeah, I guess so. Do you think it’s more like The Notebook?” she asked.

“I couldn’t say my dear, circumstances are fairly different for all of your examples...and two of them are fictional, so the situations in them aren’t always going to be accurate,” he lectured.

“Yeah I know it’s fake, but they have to base them off of something,” she reasoned and then sat back on the sofa, stretching her arms above her head. She glanced over at Harry again with a frown, still thinking about the movie.

“Do you remember the first time you saw Eggsy?” she asked.

“Of course it was…” he trailed off, brows drawing together. She watched as his face stilled, small wrinkles appearing on his forehead as he thought. He opened his mouth several times to answer but closed it again soon after.

“I can’t seem to recall it, I’m sorry Sophie. You’ll have to check with Eggsy,” he looked away, but not before she caught the troubled look on his face.

“That’s okay Harry, Lucy doesn’t remember the first time she saw Henry either, and they still made it work,” she put a hand on Harry’s arm and he turned back to her and smiled.

“Yes they did my dear, yes they did.”

* * *

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

* * *

 

||Galahad, Lancelot could use some backup. More hostiles here than we anticipated.|| Merlin’s voice buzzed through his head and he moved into action.

 

Lancelot usually preferred to work alone, as did her predecessor, but occasionally another Kingsman was put on standby for the more dangerous work. It had been a while since he had been assigned outside of the UK, and it was invigorating to take in some new scenery, despite the questionable location. He hadn’t expected to be needed on this, but was prepared when Merlin called on him.

Kicking in the side-door he advanced into the hallway, checking his blind spots and making sure the path was clear. He could hear gunfire nearby and headed towards the sound. He pressed a new button on the side of his glasses and ARC buzzed to life. He felt the vibrations thrum through the air and watched as a wireframe of the building formed on the side of his glasses, giving him a rudimentary map of the layout of the building. Several red spots flared to life on the map. One was moving towards him, fast. Harry turned. 

A man burst from the doorway nearby, almost running into him as he did so. Harry brought the gun up like a club and it made brutal contact with the man’s nose. Blood exploded around his hand. The man dropped. A quick glance in the room the man had occupied showed no one else in the vicinity. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust ARC’s sensors. Old habits just died hard.

He surged further into the building, following the faint waypoints ARC relayed to the feed in his glasses. There was one blue dot on his map, surrounded by quite a few red ones, and he knew that was where he’d find Lancelot. The unmistakable sound of a grenade going off came from the direction he was heading in, followed by several of the red dots blinking off his map. The blue stayed strong.

He reached the door and tested the handle. Locked. A swift kick in the right place broke the tenuous hold on the old door and he was through, entering the melee to Lancelot’s right. The man closest to him turned, gun swinging towards him. There was a medium sized wooden table between them and he swung his foot at it. The table went sailing into the man, catching him in the knees. He went down with a surprised grunt. A flash of metal sparked across his vision as a throwing knife lodged into the man’s head. Roxy had fantastic firearm scores, but she was twice as lethal with her knives. Their eyes met briefly over the fighting, acknowledging each other and re-positioning for optimal coverage on all sides.

“Did you secure the intel?” Harry called over his shoulder.

“Of course!” she replied. “Just didn’t think he’d wake up so fast. Called for backup before I could clear the building.”

 

||More hostiles inbound. You must have really pissed him off Lancelot.|| Merlin warned.

 

Harry’s eyes flickered to the map and he sprinted to the door closest to where the new threat was coming from. The first man entered, gun in front of him. Harry grabbed the muzzle of the gun from the side and pushed down and towards the man instead of up and away. The man was forced to drop the gun from the angle of the assault, and forced backwards a step to regain his balance. He swept his legs at the man’s knees and he went down with a shout. A quick flick of his hands and the gun he had taken from the man was now in the proper position. He fired down the hallway, taking out three of the men who had been behind the first. He fired another at the man on the ground. The painful punch of bullets hitting the back of his suit had him diving for cover a moment later. He was grateful they hadn’t been a higher caliber. The suit had stopped them from penetrating, but he’d have some sizable bruises for the weeks to come.

 

||In the archway. Six more. Where the bloody hell are they coming from?|| Merlin exclaimed.

 

Harry cast a glance at Lancelot, who had also taken cover behind one of the overturned tables. She was dealing with her own group of enemies. He poked out of cover, firing at the new group coming through the archway. They returned fire. Several went down before he gun ran empty. He threw it aside and grabbed a heavy candelabra that had fallen in the scuffle. With as much force as he could muster he flung it towards the ones that were left. It made a satisfying crunching sound as it made contact, and he had to dive for cover again as another spray of bullets peppered the ground near him.

 

||Incoming grenade detected. Suggest evasive maneuvers immediately.||

 

ARC’s voice replaced Merlin’s and Harry looked at the map in the corner of his glasses. The red dots dimmed to yellow, and a red pulsating dot replaced them as ARC tracked the grenade flying towards him. There was a small countdown beneath it.

The bullets had stopped as the grenade flew in his direction. He lurched to his feet, making the calculation in his head as he did so. ARC’s prediction was dead on. The grenade landed neatly in his open hand and he hurled it back where it came from as fast as he could, ducking back under cover before it had finished leaving his fingertips.

The heat from the blast was sudden, overwhelming, and blissfully brief. Dust and debris rained down on him and he turned his face away from it. The remaining heat spots from the archway had been eliminated, but there were still a few stragglers on Lancelot’s side. He glanced her way as she emptied her own gun into an unfortunate man, having run out of throwing knives. 

She ducked down to reload and Harry pulled his own gun out of his shoulder holster. By the time his gun had cleared his suit jacket, Lancelot was back in action and firing at the three men in front of her. Another red dot appeared on the map to Lancelot’s right and Harry trained his gun on the doorway. The man stepped through, his own pistol in hand, aiming at Lancelot, not even seeing Harry.

He pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. Two of the three men Lancelot was firing at fell.

He pulled the trigger again. Nothing happened. The third man fell and Lancelot started to turn towards the man that Harry was aiming at.

Cold dismay flooded his system as the man’s gun roared. He watched as Lancelot twitched, blood spraying back onto the table she was using as cover. She blinked slowly, dazed as blood tumbled down the side of her face and over her neck.

 

||The fucking safety Galahad!|| Merlin swore in his ear.

He moved to disengage the safety and froze again, mind horrifyingly blank. There was a faint ticking sound and a bright waypoint lit up on the small latch on the side of his gun. He thumbed it at the same time the man turned towards him. The gun roared to life as he pulled the trigger a third time, and all signs of hostiles were erased from his feed.

Harry holstered his gun and half ran, half stumbled to Roxy’s side. She blinked at him, eyes slightly unfocused behind her glasses which were hanging askew on her face. Merlin was shouting something at him but he didn’t hear the words. He gently tilted Roxy’s head to one side, ignoring her hiss of pain. She said nothing, and neither did he. Her right ear was gone, nothing but a mangled, bloody hole where it once was. The bullet had taken some of her hair along for the ride too, and had grazed the side of her head, but he could see no bone fragments as he probed gently at the wound. Shrugging hastily out of his suit jacket he folded it into some semblance of a square and pressed it to the side of her head to help staunch the bleeding.

Harry sat with Roxy’s head cradled on his lap, hands starting to cramp up as he held the jacket in place. He watched her face carefully, making sure she stayed awake and alert. They remained silent as they waited for the medical assistance that Merlin sent. Merlin, on the other hand, hadn’t shut up. When English failed him, he switched to Gaelic, swearing in ways Harry hadn’t ever experienced. Harry knew he deserved it, but he didn’t really hear much of what Merlin was saying.

It rivaled his own inner scolding anyway. This was his fault. He had failed one of the simplest aspects of handling a gun and it had cost Roxy an ear. If she was lucky that would be all that it cost her.

 

_It’s finally leaked into your training, the blank spaces. What good are you to Kingsman now? Who else has to get hurt because of your failures?_

 

Roxy squeezed his arm tightly, breaking him out of his thoughts. She managed a small, reassuring smile and squeezed his arm again. It wasn’t hard to see why she and Eggsy were such good friends. There was a deep kindness in her as well, although he didn’t think it ran as deep as it did in Eggsy. Here she was with her ear blown off, trying to keep him from feeling guilty.

The paramedics arrived sooner than Harry anticipated and with his help they got her up and onto a stretcher, and out into an ambulance. Harry sat with her on the ride back to Kingsman headquarters, watching the progress with anxiety growing cold in the pit of his stomach.

A selfish thought crawled its way into his mind. He was grateful that it had been Roxy that had been shot, instead of Eggsy. This could have just as easily happened on a mission with Eggsy. If that had happened he didn’t know how he’d handle it. The guilt he felt over the situation was bad enough with Roxy, but if it had been Eggsy? He’d never be able to forgive himself.

He wasn’t entirely sure he could forgive himself for what had happened to Roxy either. 

\---

“I can’t do this anymore Arthur,” his words felt like knives, tearing their way from his throat. He couldn’t stop them, not after what had happened.

“In any capacity, or just for field work?” Arthur asked, one eyebrow raised a fraction of an inch higher than normal at his words. It was the only indication that he was surprised.

“In any capacity. I don’t think this is going to stop, or even slow down. It’s probably the opposite, to be honest,” he admitted heavily.

“That is unfortunate,” Arthur replied stiffly, but he meant it.

“I apologize for the position this puts you in,” Harry sighed.

“What position is that?” Arthur asked, curious.

“The same one I was in thirteen years ago, with Delaware.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, we’re not barbarians,” Arthur leveled a distasteful look at him.

 

“I don’t think I follow,” Harry admitted slowly.

“The whole ‘Kingsman don’t retire’ thing. Absolute rubbish,” Arthur sat back in his chair, folding his hands neatly in his lap. Harry stared at him for a moment, still not quite following.

“What about Terry?” he asked.

“Bermuda. Nice little place out by some perfume factory,” Arthur replied.

“Duncan?” he tried again.

“Poland, to live with his grandson,” Arthur replied, the ghost of a smile on his face.

“You’re joking…and Piers?”

“Las Vegas. He liked hot weather and gambling.”

“We drank toasts to all of them! We were told how they died in the field. There were pictures! Christ...did James retire as well?” he gaped, and then felt like a fool when Arthur’s face fell.

“The other three retired, James did not,” Arthur sighed.

“How did I not know this?” Harry asked, baffled.

“One of the best kept secrets in Kingsman, although the way Merlin jokes about it sometimes makes me wonder,” Arthur growled in displeasure, and then shook his head at Harry’s face.

“You’re one of our best, Galahad, but we have secrets, even from you. Don’t be offended. Even Kingsman agents rarely guess the truth. Delaware worked very hard to bring you back to fulltime status,” Arthur admitted.

“You’re saying it was all a ruse then? That I never would have been terminated?” Harry blinked.

“Of course not. As I said before, we’re not barbarians,” Arthur repeated.

“Bloody hell Alex,” Harry put a hand to his head, rubbing absently at the scar.

“Sorry for the deception Harry,” Arthur replied, although he didn’t sound sorry.

“I guess I should have expected our exit to be much the same as our entrance. Full of tactful deceit,” Harry bristled.

“Much the same. I thought you’d be happier at the news,” Arthur admitted.

“I suppose it beats the alternative. Am I to go into hiding then? Leave London and everything I have here? Will you make up some story of how I was killed in combat?” he asked.

“Only if you want to fall off the grid for good. The last three wanted nothing to do with Kingsman once they got out. Wanted no reminders of their years here. They wanted a peaceful existence for whatever remained of their years. If you want that, we can give it to you,” Arthur offered.

“And if I don’t?” Harry asked, brows drawing together.

“If you wish to stay in London, to keep your ties to Kingsman and the agents here, we can honor that as well. You can be the ‘first’ Kingsman to officially retire in sixty four years. Although I hope it won’t be a catalyst for the other older agents to jump ship,” Arthur sighed.

 

Harry considered his options for a long time. Arthur didn’t attempt to break the silence, just watched him carefully as he thought.

“I can’t leave London,” he decided at last and Arthur nodded, unsurprised.

“I suppose Merlin’s joke about retirement won’t be as funny if I actually retire?” Harry asked.

“It wasn’t funny to begin with,” Arthur replied and Harry smiled for the first time since Lancelot had lost her ear because of his memory lapse.

 

\---

 

“To Galahad!” the voices echoed around the room as glasses were raised. It was the first time any in the room had raised glasses to someone who was present. Harry raised his own glass and drank down the expensive alcohol, feeling only mildly guilty for not really tasting it. After the toast each agent came to him, shaking his hand and thanking him for his service.

“You didn’t have to do this for me,” Roxy chastised when her turn came. His eyes flicked towards the bandaged wrapped around her head and he frowned.

“I didn’t. I did it for everyone. It’s time. I know it, and you know it,” he assured her and she gave a strained smile and nod, then patted his hand and moved on. He was grateful that she didn’t argue.

 

Eggsy came up behind her, shaking his hand with a reassuring squeeze, looking like someone had just put a hole in his tire and had let all the air out.

“It ain’t gonna be the same without you here,” he grumbled softly.

“It never is when an agent is replaced. The dynamic is always changing, but it doesn’t always mean that it’s a bad thing,” Harry assured him.

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it,” Eggsy countered.

“No, but it doesn’t mean that you have to hate it either,” Harry reminded him.

“I guess,” Eggsy shrugged, not convinced.

“Pick a good replacement. I want your recruit to get my name. It would be rather poetic, don’t you think?” he suggested.

“Never cared much for poetry,” Eggsy grumbled and then gave his hand a squeeze, “I’ll see you at home, yeah?”

“Don’t forget the cake,” Harry reminded him.

“I’m not getting you a stupid cake.”

“Sure you are,” Harry assured him with a grin and Eggsy groaned with a roll of his eyes and walked back to his seat.

The rest of the proceedings went faster than he expected. He was given a medal, not unlike the one that he had given Eggsy when his father had given his life for Kingsman. Instead of pink, the inner color was blue. He said his final farewells, and Merlin led him into a side room where he had to relinquish his Kingsman weaponry. He was allowed to keep the suits, but that was all.

“I suppose you’ll take ARC?” Harry asked as he watched Merlin pull out the small device used to remove the unit.  

“This version, yes,” Merlin pressed the device to his neck. The metal was cold, and the pain was sharp. He didn’t wince. His eyes followed Merlin as he pulled out the other device, the one for implanting ARC and he frowned. Before he could ask what Merlin was doing, the device was on his neck and the warmth grew steadily starting from the base of his skull and radiating outward. There was a moment of disorientation, and a steady throbbing feeling from the back of his neck and then it faded away.

“Merlin?” he asked.

“A parting gift. This version isn’t attached to Kingsman. It’s your personal device. The information loads directly to this,” Merlin held out a slim, black laptop. Harry took it, frown still creasing his brow.

“Why?” he asked.

“Because you need the help, and ARC already knows you better than you do. He can give you the assistance you need when no one else can,” Merlin explained.

“No, I mean why did you spend the time on it? Surely you have better things to do than this?” Harry threw a look at him.

“You know, a thank you would have sufficed,” Merlin glared at him.

“You really shouldn’t have Merlin…but thank you,” Harry gave in at last. He did need the help, as much as he didn’t want to admit it.

“You’re welcome. Now go home and enjoy all the free time you now have,” Merlin ushered him out of the door.

“I’ll miss you too,” Harry grinned.

“You’ll see me at dinner in two nights. You won’t have enough time to miss me,” Merlin assured him.

And he didn’t. It was almost as if no longer being a Kingsman made the others come around more often. He didn’t know if they really wanted to visit, or if they were just being kind and trying to keep him from being bored. Not that he had a lot of time to be bored. Sophie was home most of the time when she wasn’t in school, and he found that he rather enjoyed spending the extra time with her. Helping with homework, taking care of dinner, going for short walks with JB…it was all very domestic, but he found that he didn’t mind as much as he thought he would.

It was also easier to live with the headaches when he didn’t have to worry about them interfering with missions. Now he simply took his medication and quietly retired to his room to ride them out. When he came to, ARC was there to inform him of his status, and what had happened, and would help him get his bearings again. It was easier on him, and Sophie that way. Easier for Eggsy too. He could keep his repetitive questions in check, or save them for later and ARC would fill in the empty spaces. It wasn’t an ideal situation, but it could have been worse.

 

On the bad days ARC would suggest that he read his journal. The beginning read like a novel of someone else’s life. He couldn’t recall the information written on the pages. The middle seemed like a faint dream, barely remembered and hazy, details lost in the cracks. The end was clearer, but the edges were boxy and starting to fade. He tried not to let it upset him. Most days he succeeded.

One day he failed, letting the emotions take hold in full force. The next day the journal was simply gone. Harry soon forgot it even existed in the first place. ARC never mentioned it again.

 

* * *

Eggsy’s Journal

* * *

  
_Wesley was initiated as Galahad today. Harry wasn’t wrong. It is kind of poetic. I wonder if Harry was this proud when he realized I was made a Kingsman. He probably was. He always liked the underdog. I’m more like him than I want to admit…well, more like the old Harry I guess._

_He doesn’t remember Kingsman anymore. He doesn’t remember being shot. He doesn’t write in his journal, and I don’t think he even remembers having it. He doesn’t remember my father or how we met. He doesn’t remember my mother, or when Sophie was small. I don’t think he remembers her name anymore._

_He still remembers Merlin. Half the time he remembers Roxy, although sometimes he calls her Lancelot. Once or twice he called her James, as if the connection is there but the strings are crossed. They try hard to keep him happy, to gloss over his lapses and to take them in stride, and to not make him feel like he’s losing his mind. For the most part they succeed. When they leave though, I can tell he knows something is off. His eyes glaze as ARC debriefs him on what just happened. I think ARC talks to him more than he ever talked to me. I’m not sure if that’s comforting or not._

_Last night he had a particularly bad migraine. It lasted much longer than usual, and he was so disoriented when it finally eased. That’s normal, but the fear that came with it wasn’t. I’ve seen a lot of shite, being a Kingsman and all, but seeing him that afraid is the worst thing I think I’ve ever seen. He didn’t remember me. That usually happens too, but this time it took a few hours for it to come back. When it did, he cried. It’s all fucked. He knows it too._

_He told me he’s afraid of forgetting me for good. Said he didn’t want to live in a world where he doesn’t know who I am. That there would be nothing left of who he is if he can’t remember who I am. Its rubbish, but he’s convinced. He’s terrified. Fuck, I’m terrified. He made me make a promise. It’s not fair. It’s not fucking fair._

_I had to promise that I’d put him down if he forgets who I am. How fucked up is that? Like he doesn’t still have a life to live without knowing me? And I made that promise. How couldn’t I? I’ve never seen him so distraught. I hate that I made that fucking promise…but I’m not the one losing my mind now am I? Would I feel the same in his shoes? God knows I don’t want to live in a world where Harry doesn’t exist…but is it worse to live in one where he does and he doesn’t know me?_

_It’s killing me. I don’t want to lose him, but he’s slipping through my fingers one memory at a time. I don’t know if I can do this._

_I don’t know what I’m going to do when he doesn’t know me anymore._

 

* * *

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

* * *

His hand was numb as he pounded on the door, leaving wet smudges on the glass that he barely saw. It didn’t take long before he saw movement behind the glass door, despite the hour. A table lamp switched on and he squinted at the sudden burst of brightness in the dark. The lock was disengaged and a burst of warm air hit his face, making him shiver. Roxy stood before him, although it was Merlin’s apartment he had visited. Her eyebrows were drawn close together in worry and she stepped back to let him in.

 

       “God Eggsy, you’re soaked…how did you…did you climb up the side of the building? Are you…what happened?” she asked, uncharacteristically at a loss for words. He half stumbled, half fell into the apartment and she caught him quickly as he sank to his knees. She followed him down wordlessly, embracing him as the strength went out of his legs.

“He doesn’t know me, Rox. He doesn’t know me anymore,” he choked out. The tears which had refused to come for the last week suddenly burst forth in a torrent he had no control over. She held him tighter as the sobs shook his frame. She didn’t speak, and he was grateful for that. Instead, she held him close and lightly ran her fingers through the tangled mess of his soaked hair, and let him cry.

Some time later he managed to get a grip, the sobs subsiding into quiet hitching, and then at last to ragged, but steady gasps. Part of him had believed that crying would have helped to slightly bridge the chasm in his heart, but it hadn’t. He felt just as hollow and hopeless as he had before he had shown up at Merlin’s door. He rubbed at his face with one hand and grimaced.

“I’ll get you a towel. You’re soaked through,” she finally pulled back from him, and he saw that she was soaked too from the contact. The downpour outside hadn’t abated any, and he had traveled the whole way by foot. He doubted there was any part of him left to be dry, and didn’t really care regardless. It was a secondary discomfort to the one raging inside mind and heart.

Roxy returned momentarily with a fluffy towel, a t-shirt and pair of sweatpants. She had also changed into a different shirt that hadn’t been soaked through by an inconsiderate houseguest.

“Sorry about the shirt Rox,” he apologized softly.

“Don’t worry about it. Wasn’t mine anyway. Here, put these on. You’re freezing,” she motioned to the clothes. He nodded and struggled to his feet. Disappearing into the bathroom he stripped out of his wet clothes, dried off and got dressed again. He did it mechanically, not feeling the warmth from the towel, or the softness of the fabric. Instead he contemplated his own reflection in the mirror. In some surreal way he didn’t recognize himself. His eyes were puffy and red, his hair clung to his forehead, the scar on his face was a blaze of white through his ruddy cheek. There was a hollowness in his eyes he wasn’t used to.

He turned away, hating what he saw, and walked out of the bathroom and back to Roxy who had started a fire in the fireplace. She patted the ground next to the crackling flames beside her and he took a seat.

“Why don’t you give it a few days? You know how he gets after his headaches. Sometimes it takes a while, yeah?” she tried to reassure him.

“Not this time. This time’s different,” he breath caught in his throat.

“Why? What happened?” she asked.

The memories of the last few days were seared into his memory. He thought about them when he was awake, and when he finally fell asleep they waited for him there as well. There was no escape from them, so there was no point in not talking about it. That was why he had come wasn’t it? To talk to Roxy, or Merlin, or whoever was home at the time.

“He got another bloody headache, and when he came to, he just...didn’t know me. Usually, you know, he’ll frown and look a bit lost for a time, trying to piece everything back together. He gets frustrated looking for those answers, and he asks ARC a lot of questions if I’m not there to do it,” he ran a hand through his hair and continued, “But this time he didn’t look confused at all. He just...was. He looked at me and asked why I was in his room, and who I was. There wasn’t anything in his eyes Rox. Nothing at all,” his voice broke again and he stopped talking and gazed into the fire instead. It offered little comfort and he barely felt it’s warmth.

“Oh Eggsy, did this happen tonight?” she asked, eyes full of concern.

“No. It happened a week ago. I gave it time. Tried to reason that it’d come back. That he’d remember...but then he got another migraine. God they come on so bloody fast now,” he shook his head, “and he came to, and there was still nothing. Even less than before. He got uncomfortable when I sat on the edge of his bed. I told him that I was his husband, and he said he’d never been married, like the fuckin’ ring wasn’t on his fuckin’ finger,” Eggsy thumbed at his own ring, twirling it on his finger.

“You don’t think he’ll come back after this one?” she asked.

“No. ARC relayed some information, says there isn’t anything he can do. Harry’s stopped asking questions about him and me...’cause he doesn’t remember there are questions to ask,” Eggsy rubbed his face with one hand, still gazing into the flames wondering if he looked as lost as he felt.

“God Eggsy. I’m so sorry. What can I do?” she asked, eyes earnest and worried.

“There isn’t anything you can do. I just...I just had to get out of there for a bit, yeah? The house is just full of memories that only one of us can recall and it kills me. I thought...I thought I could do this, yeah? I thought I could handle it. It’s still Harry...and he’s alive and I thought that would be enough but it isn’t. It’s so fuckin’ hard Rox. I don’t know if I can do this,” he admitted.

“Of course you can. You can and you will. He might not remember who you are, and what you mean to him...but it’s still Harry, and you still love him. That’ll never change, no matter what he forgets,” she assured him with a tight squeeze to his hand.

“I hope you’re right Rox. I really do. I just can’t understand how we were so close and he just can’t remember a single thing about all those years together. It’s like there’s just a big empty space where I used to be, and he doesn’t even know it. I don’t know if I’m strong enough...I just...I have to...he asked me…” he trailed off and shrugged, going silent. He couldn’t bring himself to talk about it. Roxy didn’t try to pry it out of him, she just squeezed his hand and offered support in the only way she could.

“I think I just have to get out of my head for a bit, yeah? Go on a mission, get my mind off things. I’m tired of feeling useless all the time,” he sighed.

“Yeah, I get that. Arthur said he thinks he has a lead on the London Arsonist, and I’m sure he could use an extra pair of hands if you offer yourself,” she suggested.

“Yeah...alright. I’ll ask,” he agreed softly.

“Are you going to be okay?” she asked.

“No. I don’t think I’ll ever be okay after this. But I’ll try,” he gave her a small smile that didn’t reach his eyes. It was the best he could do. Maybe it was the best he’d ever be able to do in a world where Harry didn’t remember him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO SO SO sorry that this took so long to get out! I've been so busy lately that I haven't even been able to squeeze in time to get this out. The rest of May is almost as busy as the beginning, and hopefully I'll be able to post more frequently! Thank you all so much for your patience!


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